


Come Alive

by oxiosa



Series: Brarg Week 2020 [3]
Category: Hetalia - Fandom, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiosa/pseuds/oxiosa
Summary: The main tent looks big from outside, but it looks even larger in the inside. It is full of people, the crowd chatting and laughing excitedly as they munch on treats and wait for the show to start. There is a contagious electric sense of expectation in the air that draws a tired smile from Martín’s lips.
Relationships: Argentina/Brazil (Hetalia)
Series: Brarg Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025587
Kudos: 6





	Come Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Latino characters belong to the Latin Hetalia community and their respective creators, Portugal is a mix of the canon design and some designs I've seen around
> 
> Argentina: Martín Hernández.  
> Fem!Brazil: Luciana Da Silva.  
> Bolivia: Julio Paz.  
> Ecuador: Francisco Burgos Torres.  
> Paraguay: Daniel de Irala.  
> Peru: Miguel Alejandro Prado  
> Portugal: Gabriel Fernándes.  
> Uruguay: Sebastián Artigas  
> Venezuela (mention only): María de la Coromoto Páez Miranda.

“Keep running! Come on, Sebastián! Run!”

Martín feels his lungs burn with exhaustion as the cold night air stabs his lungs. He helps Daniel board the moving train, shoves him inside the car’s opened door. He takes his bag off next and throws it inside the car.

“Hurry!” Daniel hisses.

Martín can’t help to spit a curse. He jumps and takes hold of the car’s door handgrip and hangs half of his body out of the train as he reaches for Sebastián, who struggled to keep up.

“Your hand!” Martín commands.

Sebastián reaches for Martín, struggles for a moment as the train starts gaining speech.

“Come on,” Martín all but growls.

“You can do it, Sebas!” Daniel cheers learning outside the car’s door.

With one last effort, Sebastián takes Martín’s hand. Martín closes his hand tightly around his, and pulls. He manages to drag Sebastián up and inside the car. They both collapse on the wooden floor in exhaustion, breathing hard and staring at the dark ceiling.

“Well done,” Daniel smiles at them with an optimism Martín finds hard to share.

They sit together and share some stale bread Daniel pulls out of his bag. As he tries to chew through it, Martín looks around and takes a stock of their surroundings. The car is full of wooden boxes. _Good_ , Martín thinks. It is already dark in here, but the boxes will lend them some extra cover and keep them hidden.

Martín stands and slides the car’s door close. Some cold wind still slips through the cracks of the wooden boards, but it is something.

“Get some sleep,” Martín says. “I’ll keep watch.”

“We can take turns,” Sebastián offers.

“Sure,” Martín shrugs. “I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.”

Sebastian and Daniel obey, curl on the floor and close their eyes. Soon, they are snoring softly. Martín sits close to them with his back against one of the large boxes and stares straight ahead. He doesn’t manage to stay awake for long. He is tired and cold. It is dark in here, and the swaying of the train doesn’t help him. He starts nodding off, until his head finally drops to his chest and he falls asleep too.

He wakes up by something curling around his neck and lifting him off the ground. Startled and confused, he tries to throw some punches, kicks his legs in the air as he finds no ground below the sole of his feet.

“Wait!”

“Stop, please!”

Daniel and Sebastián clutch each other kneeling on the floor as they helplessly stare at the massive man with pleading eyes.

Martín tries to shake the man off to no avail.

“Quit it,” a low voice commands.

Martín blinks trying to see something in the darkness of the night. Martín is not short by any shot, but the man holding him from the collar of his shirt is almost a full head taller than him. He wears a deep scold and he has light piercing eyes and a straight clean scar on his forehead.

“Well, well…” a new voice calls. “What do we have here?”

Martín looks over this giant’s shoulder. A smaller man with dark hair and bright hazel eyes steps from the shadows. A light cigarette hangs from his lips, its end bright red in the darkness of the car. On his right hand he holds a shiny knife. 

“You should have thought it twice before stepping into my train uninvited,” the man says.

“Please,” Martín begs. “We’ll get off on the next stop.”

“Next stop?” the man arches an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think so, no.”

Without the need of further instructions, the giant holding Martín drags him to the stock car’s door. He opens it with his free hand, and a violent surge of wind rushes in. Before Martín can process what is about to occur next, the giant holds him out of the car. Wind rushes wildy past Martín’s hair and clothes. At his hanging feet, the ground speeds below him in a vertiginous rush of blurr. Martín clings to the hand on his neck for dear life.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he screams.

“Please, stop!” Daniel cries.

“Wait, don’t!” Sebastián echoes.

“Please,” Martín begs frantically, his eyes darting from the giant to the man in the shadows. “Please, let’s talk. Let’s talk it over, please.”

“Nothing personal, kid,” the man in the shadows puffs a cloud of smoke. “We just don’t take kindly to stowaways. Off with him, Tim.”

“Wait!”

They all freeze at the new voice that has joined them. Martín stares with wide eyes as a young girl stomps out of the shadows. She is small and pretty, and has dark skin and darker hair. 

“What is going on here?” she demands, and scorns at the man in the shadow’s direction.

The man in the shadows blows another puff of smoke. He frowns and his lips turn downwards in displeased annoyance.

“Nothing to concern yourself about, _principessa_ ,” he replies calmly.

“Oh, but I do concern,” the girl replies. She places her hands on her hips and frowns at him. “Were you going to throw these kids out?”

Martín doesn’t point out that she can’t be much older than them, if at all - not while he is still hanging outside a moving train and she is the only thing that keeps this mass of a man from letting go of him.

“These ‘kids’ are trespassers,” the man from the shadows replies curtly.

“Then we drop them on the next spot, we don’t just shove them to their death,” she rolls her eyes annoyed. She turns to the giant and orders; “Let him go, Tim. And I mean inside of the train!”

Tim the giant tosses Martín inside without any care at all. Sebastián and Daniel rush to his side, and Martín can’t help to dig his fingers in their forearms as if he still needed to cling onto something for dear life.

The girl nods satisfied, and since her job is done, she turns around and leaves.

“Your father will hear of this, young lady!” the man in the shadows calls after her.

The girl sticks her tongue at him before she disappears into the darkness of the car.

The man in the shadows clicks his tongue in annoyance. He spits a curse, and pulls his knife away. He throws his cigarette to the floor, stomps it with more force than needed, and then glares at Martín, Sebastián and Daniel direction.

“You three. Take your things and follow me,” he orders.

Without any room to discuss, they do as they are told. With Tim trailing behind them, the man in the shadows takes them through the train, walking through car after car. The first five cars they walk through are stock dark cars like the one the three of them had boarded, but the next cars are full of light, people, laughter and music.

Martín gets a good look at the man in the shadows. He wears dress pants and a dress shirt folded at the forearms. He doesn’t look as scary now, even if he still holds himself tall with a deep frown as he stomps through the cars.

“Out of the way!” he cries, and the people part to let them through without a word. “Out of the way, out of the way!”

They walk through cars with narrow corridors on one side and compartment after compartment on the other side. Martín can hear the booming laughter and singing coming from each compartment, most in Spanish, but other in some languages he can’t quite place.

They keep walking until they leave the music and laughter behind. The man in the shadows stops at the car’s door, and knocks. He waits, until a voice commands him to come in.

The next car they board is nothing like the one they have left behind. It is an opulent private car, with wood panelling, cushioned furniture and chandeliers. It is fashioned in the style of some elegant office; chandeliers, cushioned furniture, shiny gramophone playing some jazz on the corner as heavy clouds of smoke gather at the ceiling. Sitting on the desk, one behind the chair and the other leaning against it there are two men; one is counting money and puffing a smoke, the other tickets, both with nimble fingers used to counting money. Martín startles a little by how similar the two of them are; both have brown curls - even if one has long hair and the other has short hair - and green eyes. Brothers, undoubtedly.

The one at the chair - the brother with long hair - doesn’t look up. The short-haired brother, on the other hand, does. He smiles warmly at the man in the shadows, before his eyes dart to Martín, Sebastián and Daniel.

“Evening, Lovino,” he says. His voice is nice and steady, and his smile only grows. “Who are your friends?”

Lovino barely acknowledges the question. He walks inside the car as if he owed it, and makes himself a drink.

“Got some stowaways,” he informs and drops himself on one of the couches.

“You already know what to do with stowaways, Lovino,” the long-haired brother mutters without bothering to look up.

Lovino rolls his eyes, and lights another cigarette. The short-haired brother regards Martín, Daniel and Sebastián with curious bright eyes.

“But Gabriel, these are kids!” he whispers.

“More the reason to throw them out, what are we supposed to do with children?” Gabriel puffs a cloud of smoke and keeps on counting. “I’m running a business here, Antonio, not a daycare.”

“We’re looking for work,” Martín rushes to say.

It is not entirely a lie; they had jumped the train for better opportunities, and whatever gives them a roof over his head and bread on his plate will suffice.

Gabriel finally looks up. His eyes are the same shade as his brothers, but lack the welcoming warmth. He regards the three with unconvinced eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Martín, sir,” Martín answers. He stands as straight as he can, and tilts his chin up. “These are my brothers, Daniel and Sebastián.”

“How old are you?”

Martín hesitates.

“I just turned eighteen, sir,” he answers.

Gabriel spares a glance at Daniel and Sebastián, who are clearly younger than that.

“And why should I hire a bunch of brats?” he asks.

“We have nothing to go back to,” Sebastián says.

The quiet honest answer seems to take both Gabriel and Antonio back. Gabriel frowns, He regards first the children, and then Martín.

“Nothing?” he asks.

Martín shakes his head. It is the honest truth.

“Nothing.”

“ _Nothing,_ Gabriel,” Antonio echoes disheartened with big sad puppy eyes.

Gabriel takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his nose. He seems to give it a thought before he makes up his mind.

“Lovino,” he calls. “Do we have some free slots?”

“There’s always something to do around here,” Lovino answers with an interested shrug. A cruel smile spread across his lips. “We could always use another shoveler.”

“Suits me fine. If they survive a week of work then I say they will have earned the right to stay,” Gabriel announces and turns back to counting money and puffing smoke.

Martín blinks in surprise, and shares wide eyed looks with Daniel and Sebastián. That was easier than he had thought.

“Welcome to the family,” Antonio beams at them.

“Thank you,” Martín nods at them. “I-Thank you.”

Lovino clicks his tongue again. He stuffs his cigarette, and stands up.

“Follow me,” he orders them.

They leave Antonio and Gabriel’s car, and walk all the way back. They go back to the music and the people.

“From now on you call me Mr. Vargas,” Lovino - _Mr. Vargas_ instructs. “You do exactly as I say, and if you dare back talk to me or slack around, I _am_ throwing you out of my train. _Capisci_?”

“Yes, sir,” they nod.

Mr. Vargas takes them farther back until they reach the last car with comparments. He knocks on a door and waits. The door opens to reveal a young boy around their age. He has black hair, tanned skin and round cheeks.

“Evening, Mr. Vargas,” he nods with a pleasant smile. His hazel eyes dart to Martín, Daniel and Sebastián. “Hello! I don’t think I’ve seen you three before?”

“They’re new,” Mr. Vargas says. “They’ll be bunking with you until we find them a place. If they earn a place in my train.”

“Yes, Mr. Vargas,” the boy nods again. The watch Mr. Vargas leaves, and then the boy smiles at them. “My name is Miguel. But please, come inside, come!”

Miguel steps back and lets them in. Martín, Daniel and Sebastián have a bit of a hard time making their way across the stuffed compartment. There is only a narrow corridor to walk around, and four bunks - two on either side, and one on top of the other.

There are two other boys inside as well, one sitting on one of the lower bunks and the other peering down at them from a top bunk with narrowed unfriendly dark eyes.

“We’ve got company, boys!” Miguel calls. “Julio, Francisco, meet… sorry, I didn’t catch your names… You’re…?”

“I’m Martín,” Martín answers. “And these are Sebastián and Daniel.”

“Our pleasure,” Miguel smiles warmly. “We only have one bunk left, but I’m sure we can share for the moment.”

“I can share mine,” the boy from the top bunk says with a fixed stare on Daniel.

“Oh, I’m sure you can, Julio,” Miguel wriggles his eyebrows at him, and Julio glares daggers down at him.

“Let me take the girls from the empty bunk and it’s all yours,” Francisco says.

“Girls?” Martín repeats in confusion.

Francisco opens the curtain to one of the bunks, and Martín can’t help to let out a curse and a prayer as he sees what undoubtedly is a pit of snakes tangled in one big nest.

“ _Jesus, Mary and Joseph_ ,” Martín hisses.

“Don’t worry about the venomous ones, Francisco milks them regularly,” Miguel smiles and claps Martín on the back.

Martín has no idea what that means and is not comforted in the least. By the way Sebastián and Daniel grow pale at his side, they are not comforted either.

“What kind of business do you people run here?” Sebastián mutters weakly.

The three boys share surprised looks, and Miguel and Francisco burst into laughter.

“Why, you didn't just join any company,” Miguel informs them. “We are the Spectacular Fernandes-Fernández Brothers’ Circus!”

“A circus!” Daniel repeats with wonder.

Once Francisco’s snakes are out of the way and locked, Martín, Daniel and Sebastián sit in the bunk. None of them dares move.

“I think I’ll take the offer to share the top bunk,” Daniel gives a trembling smile to Julio.

Miguel shares some bread and cheese and some beer. They eat and laugh and drink and share stories until Mr. Vargas passes outside the compartments banging doors and announcing it is time to go to sleep.

Daniel climbs to Julio’s bunk and Martín shares the snake bunk with Sebastián. It is already small for one person, two people is a far stretch. Martín closes his eyes, and tries not to think too much about the possibility to find any scaly slithering creatures under the sheets. If he forgets about that detail, this has to be the best place they have spent the night in in weeks.

Next morning the train stops by a town. Martín, Sebastian and Daniel watch in wonder as the circus crews set up the tent working in tandem in a perfectly oiled choreography. The three of them help out where a hand is needed, and while they are setting up some banners of the circus’ acts, Martín recognises the girl from last night paiting in one of them. She is dressed in sparkling green in a dramatic pose sided by the captions of “Killer and Diablo”.

“Your girlfriend?” Daniel teases with a little smirk as he peaks at the banner.

“He wishes,” Sebastián snorts.

“How about you two mind your own goddamn business,” Martín snaps back, but he can feel his ears warming up.

By the time they sit down to have some lunch, the three of them feel already exhausted. Miguel, Julio and Francisco join them with food of their own, looking as relaxed and fresh as ever.

“How come you don’t work?” Martín can’t help to snap at them with his mouth full of rise and chicken.

“We are performers,” Miguel smiles smugly. “We don't do set up.”

“Lucky you,” Sebastián sighs tiredly.

Martín, Sebastián and Daniel hace devoured their food and they are sharing some fruit by the time Mr. Vargas comes to fetch them. He is holding a tall pile of papers in one hand and a shovel in the other.

He hands Daniel and Sebastián the papers; flyers with pictures of the circus’ performers in dramatic poses very much like the banners they hung.

“You two, go to town and hand this out,” he orders. “Be loud, make it interesting. Sell it out.”

Daniel and Sebastián nod and run off, happy to escape from heavy work. Martín watches them go with a little envy.

Mr. Vargas turns to Martín next and hands him the shovel.

“Shoveler, right?” Martín says.

Miguel, Francisco and Julio fail to hide snickers at his back. Martín raises an eyebrow at them; he fails to see the joke here.

“Follow me,” Mr. Vargas orders.

He turns and walks away, and Martín stands and rushes after him.

“Do you like animals?” Mr. Vargas asks as they walk down the camp.

It is a strange question, completely out of the blue.

“Sure,” Martín answers a little confused.

Martín understand the reason of Miguel, Francisco and Julio’s snickers and the nature of Mr. Vargas questions the moment Mr. Vargas explains what he is supposed to do. Or perhaps it is best to say he points at it. Martín stares at an empty cage car filled with grime and excrement.

“The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll finish,” Mr. Vargas says. “Now, get moving. There is more of these.”

Martín spends the rest of the day shoveling shit of every kind of animal he can think of; horses, camels, dogs, zebras, monkeys, bears, and animals he hasn’t even seen and is not sure he wants too. He has to walk away for a moment, choking with gags as his eyes water at the sheer smell. He only throws up twice during the whole day, but Mr. Vargas doesn’t seem surprised..

By the time Mr. Vargas announces he is finally done, Martín’s shoulders and back are killing him and he stinks of sweat and excrement.

As he is dragging his feet across the camp with only his bed in mind, he hears sweet joyful giggling in the distance. He looks up, and gets a glimpse of dark black hair and green sequin before it is gone in the corner of a tent.

Next day is pretty much the same. Martín spends all of his morning shovel shit and wishing he had never boarded this train to begin with. He is starving by the time lunch time arrives, but the moment he sees food he thinks he is gonna be sick.

“I don’t think I can take another day of these,” Martín confesses, growing sickly green.

“I don’t think any of us can,” Sebastián makes a face and covers his nose as he scoots away from Martín.

“Is it complaining I hear?”

Mr. Vargas frowns down at them.

“No, sir,” Daniel answers for them.

“Follow me,” Mr. Vargas orders in what is starting to feel like a familiar pattern.

Mr. Vargas takes them to a small tent. It is empty, except for a big bucket with water, and a bar of soap and clean clothes on a stool. Mr. Vargas throws cloth in Martín’s direction.

“Come to the main tent once you stop stinking of shit,” is all he says. He turns to Sebastián and Daniel and nods towards the door.

Once he is alone, Martín strips out of his clothes and washes every inch of his body rubbing the wet cloth on his skin until it turns red. He gets rid of all the sweat and grime and changes into clean clothes. He sighs in relief, feeling much better.

As instructed, he goes to the main tent, and finds Mr. Vargas, Sebastián and Daniel waiting for him.

“If you’re going to join our company, you need to know what we do,” Mr. Vargas says as he invites them inside.

The main tent looks big from outside, but it looks even larger in the inside. It is full of people, the crowd chatting and laughing excitedly as they munch on treats and wait for the show to start. There is a contagious electric sense of expectation in the air that draws a tired smile from Martín’s lips.

Mr. Vargas guides them to some empty seat, and stays with them. They don’t have to wait longer. The tent goes dark, and there is a drumroll as Fernández and Fernandes run side by side to the center of the ring. Dressed in identical red coats and top hats they wave at the cheering.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Fernandes takes his hat off and bows.

“Boys and girls!” Mr. Fernández adds and bows as well.

“We proudly present to you the Spectacular Fernández-Fernandes Brothers’ Circus!”

Martín stares with wide eager eyes at the show that unfolds before his very eyes. He is perplexed act after act. He watches men and women of all sizes and colours perform fits he had never imagined possible. He claps specially loud and whistles on top of his lungs when Miguel, Francisco and Julio step into the ring.

Miguel spins torches in his hands effortlessly, juggles with them, throws them high in the air and catches them without burning himself. He takes the fire to his face and blows a flare of fire like a dragon. Martín can barely watch when it is Francisco’s turn as he pulls snake after snake from a barrel and into his body, until he has almost twenty snakes on him. Even Julio leaves him breathless, high up on his tightrope.

Martín has never seen anything like it. It is as if dreams come true inside the tent. He laughs, gasps and claps act after act.

“For our final act,” Mr. Fernandes rushes back into the ring once a knife thrower steps out. “We ask from the crowd a little silence not to stress our performers.”

“Please respect our orders if you value your lives!” Mr. Fernández joins his brother. “Contain your screams of horror at The Queen of the Jungle and Killer and Diablo!”

The girl from their first night in the train steps into the ring with a bright smile, and Martín’s eyes go wide. She is wearing a green sequin leotard and some feathers in her hair. She looks lovely, sparkling like some surreal dream.

She strikes a pose, a hand on her hip, another high up in the air, and smiles radiantly at the public. Two clowns join her in the ring, bow repetitively to her in what is clearly a mock to her title. Each carries a pedestal that they place at either side of her before bowing at her and bolting away. Martín understands why they had run away so fast the moment two massive jaguars step into the ring and jump on top of the pedestals to growl and bare their fangs at the crowd.

No one in the audience dares breathe, let alone move a muscle. The girl in green sequins remains calm, now smirking smugly at her audience. She breaks her pose, and walks around the jaguars without an ounce of fear. She stretches her arm, and with a silent command, the jaguars jump and trade places in perfect synchrony.

Martín is mesmerized. All it takes for her jaguars to perform is her hands; she doesn’t even need to speak to get them to do as she pleases.She holds her authority over her beasts with amazing gentleness, dances around her jaguars as they perform trick after trick after trick.

She closes her act with a demonstration of tenderness. She caresses the jaguars, gently eases them to lay on their bellies at her feet as if she was handling spoiled house cats. Her performance ends with both jaguars surrendering at her feet, belly up and curling their tails lazily. She knees, lays with them, and plants a sweet kiss on either of their noses.

She leaves with a bow, and clapping and cheering erupts on her and the jaguars' departure. Martín stands and joins the clapping.

She is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

Later that night, as Martín lays in his bunk staring at the ceiling, he asks about her.

Miguel and Francisco share glances and make a face.

“That’d be Luciana,” Francisco says in a hushed voice.

“She’s off limits, man,” Miguel adds, pulling a grimace. “She is Mr. Fernandes’ daughter. Spare yourself the trouble.”

Martín has always been a trouble maker. When he closes his eyes to sleep, he thinks of Luciana.

Shoveling shit is hard work, but Martín eventually grows used to it. Or as much used to it as a person can. There are worse things, he tries to convince himself. He can’t think of any, but he is sure there must be worse things.

He has seen Luciana around a couple of times, but mostly from afar as she waltzs around the camp dressed in her green sequin leotard before shows.

It has been a week and a half since he joined in the Fernández-Fernandes company that he personally meets her. It sadly is not under the best circumstances either.

“Oh,” Martín hears a quiet surprise voice gasp behind him as he is cleaning one of the cage cars. “Sorry, I assumed you’d be done by now…”

He turns around, and there she is.

Luciana is even _prettier_ up close. She has full lips, warm brown eyes, and the longest eyelashes Martín has ever seen. The effect however is ruined as, mortifyingly, she is sided by her two jaguars. No muzzle, no leash, nothing from stopping them from ripping Martín’s head if they wished so.

On top of that, as if the wild animals at her sides aren't terrifying enough, she is holding two buckets with meat and blood.

“Oh, you’re the boy from the other night!” she says. She puts the buckets down and smiles, as if it is a fond memory. “The one Lovino wanted to throw off the train.”

“That’s me,” Martín tries to give her a smile. “I’m Martín.”

He steps out of the cage - he was done anyways - and offers his hand. She regards his hand for a moment and pulls a face. Martín realises a moment too late where her hesitation comes from. _Shoveler._

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he drops his hand.

She gives him an apologetic smile, as if she truly is sorry she is not shaking hands with a man who has been cleaning shit all day long.

“I’m Luciana,” she introduces herself.

Martín already knows this, but he is not going to make himself look too desperate by pointing it out.

“My pleasure,” he smiles at her. He clears his throat and tries his best smile. “Thanks for the other night. Sorry I didn’t get to thank you before.”

“No problem,” she smiles. “Glad to have you with us.”

As they speak, her jaguars had been curiously sniffing in Martín’s direction. One of them steps forward, close enough that their nose brushes against Martín’s knuckles. Martín tries to remain calm, especially when the second joins in, encouraged by the first’s boldness.

“Killer and Diablo, right?” Martín asks, and hopefully his voice doesn’t sound as hysterical as he feels.

“Sofía and Luíza,” Luciana corrects. She shrugs. “Killer and Diablo are their stage names. Draw in more crowds, you know.”

Martín bears down the animal's attention as best as he can, but draws a line when one of the jaguars shoves their nose too close to his crotch; a hand he may be willing to lose, some other things not so much. He steps carefully away from the jaguar, and clears his throat louder than necessary.

Luciana gets the message, and calls the jaguars back..

“They like you,” she says, trying to hide her laughter.

“I have that effect on women,” Martín holds onto the last dignity he has.

It pays off; Luciana laughs, not at him but with him at least. It restores a bit of Martín’s shattered pride.

“Ok, girls, that’s enough for the first date,” she hushes the jaguars inside their cages.

For two massive wild animals, they obey her rather tamely. Luciana closes the cage, and Martín watches with a mix of fascination and horror as she takes a piece of meat from the bucket and brings it close to the cage’s bars. The jaguars snap at each other like two squabbling siblings fighting over who gets the first bite.

“Ah, ah,” she warns. She raises a finger, and both jaguars sit on their hind legs and wait patiently with a discipline that leaves Martín astounded. “Still… still… good girls! There you go.”

Luciana throws a piece of meat each, and both catch it in the hair and munch happily. She smiles satisfied at them, and then turns to Martín and raises a thick eyebrow at him.

“Wanna try?” she asks.

There is a smug smirk curving the edges of her lips, as if she were provoking him. Martín has never in his life stepped down from a challenge.

“Sure,” he replies with a nonchalant calmness he doesn’t feel _at all_.

“Great!” Luciana’s smile grows wider. She hands him one of the buckets, and Martín almost sags down with the surprisingly heavy weight Luciana was carrying around so casually. “There you go. Just mind the teeth.”

“ _Har har_ ,” he rolls her eyes at her.

He offers a piece of meat the same way Luciana did, moving extra slowly to make his intentions as clear as water.

“Nice girl,” he praises. He lets out a curse and drops the piece of meat inside the cage when the jaguar roars at him. “ _Jesus fucking Christ._ ”

Luciana laughs openly at him.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry, I gave her the order, I couldn’t help myself…”

She laughs some more, but gives him an honest apologetical smile afterwards.

“You can try again if you want,” she says. “I promise we’ll behave.”

She smiles at him and bats her long dark eyelashes. She knows exactly what she is doing, Martín thinks as a blush creeps up his face. And still he falls for it and gives her a second chance.

“She let you feed her Killer and Diablo?!”

“It’s Sofía and Luíza, actually,” Martín corrects matter of factly before he shoves a spoonful of stew and bread into his mouth.

Miguel and Francisco stare at Martín with wide eyes, their own stew forgotten the moment Martín started narrating about his incident with Luciana and her jaguars.

“How?” Miguel demands. “What did you do?”

“I… talked to her,” Martín answers with a little shrug.

“And she let you touch her cats…?” Miguel asks, still in disbelief.

“Are we really talking about cats or is it an innuendo?” Daniel asks with rising suspicion.

Miguel and Francisco snicker, but Martín elbows him in retaliation.

“I was just making sure,” Daniel shrugs before digging back into his food.

“Back to being serious here, she never lets anyone near her cats,” Francisco agrees with Miguel’s sentiment. He turns his attention to Martín then. “She must have _really_ liked you.”

“I’m sure she did,” Martín puffs his chest. He smiles smugly. “What isn’t there to like about me?”

“The smell, for starters,” Julio grumbles glaring down at his plate and a new round of snickers spreads around their little circle.

Martín eventually stops being a shoveler. He almost sobs with relief the morning Mr. Vargas announces he has a new job for him. Later, Miguel confidentially explains it was a ritual of initiation for those who want to join the family. If your stomach can handle a whole month shoveling shit, then you have earned your place here.

Being in the entertainment business proves to be quite educational. They get to travel a lot, and there is always something new to pick up from the performances. Daniel himself has proven to be quite the juggler; has even made Miguel promise him he would teach him how to juggle with fire. Even Sebastián, who is not particularly lured by the fancy acts and bright lights, finds an interest in Fernández and Fernandes’ work managing the company.

Now that Martín isn’t cleaning after animals anymore, he doesn’t have an excuse to visit Sofía and Luíza, but that doesn’t stop him from still stopping by. Luciana lets him feed them - no more tricks anymore - and even teaches him some commands when he asks about it. Sofía and Luíza prove to be exceptionally clever much to Martín’s amazement. He gets closer to both jaguars. He admits he was scared at first, but they are two huge cats. They butt their massive heads against Martín’s hands for pets, lay on their back with their bellies up, and purr the loudest noise Martín has ever heard coming from an animal. He becomes quickly one of their favourite people around the camp, only second to Luciana herself.

He also becomes Luciana’s favourite, second to none. He likes her, and she likes him back. She is open to his advances, plays along with his flirting, and it makes Martín feel warm and giddy. It is very easy to get close to her, and their first kiss comes naturally.

They become almost inseparable after that. If Martín isn’t the one sneaking to visit her, it is Luciana who goes find him. Whenever their work is done and there are no shows to prepare for, it is common to see them walk around the camp hand in hand.

Martín also sneaks at night to Luciana’s quarter. Unlike the rest of the crew and performers, she has a private room - one of the many privileges of being the ringmaster’s daughter. It is not big, but is wide enough to host a bed, a wardrobe and a desk. It is a bit of a dangerous game; Martín was almost thrown out of this train for less than this, after all.

But it is worth the risk, he thinks as he lays in a comfortable bed and watches Luciana braid her hair in front of a wall mirror in her nightgown. She smiles at him when she catches him staring and he relishes in the warm intimacy of the moment.

When Luciana is done, she climbs up the bed and straddles Martín’s hips as if they were her rightful throne. Martin doesn’t mind - they are as much as he is concerned. He runs his hands up Luciana’s thigh, pushing her nightgown up in the process, and smirks when she leans forward and kisses him. She takes his hand before he can slip it under her skirt and between her legs.

“One more minute,” she smiles down at him.

“ _Tease_ ,” Martín accuses, and she laughs at him.

“You won’t be complaining when one of my rings and bracelets digs into your back,” she replies as she sits up and starts taking her earrings off.

“You mean these?” Martín asks, showing her a golden ring with a dedicated engraved L.

Luciana stares at the ring with wide eyes, and then she looks down at her hands. She looks back up at Martín with wide eyes.

“I was wearing that,” she says. “How did you do that?”

“That?” Martín asks nonchalantly as a wide smug smirk spreads across his lips. He could explain to Luciana that when you are an orphan child living in the street there are certain skills you must pick up, but he rather impress her with some nonsense some more. “Oh, it was nothing. Watch this.”

He presents his empty hand to Luciana, makes sure she sees there is nothing there. Then, he pushes a wild strand of dark hair behind her ear and pulls out of thin air one of the earrings. Luciana stares at him with wide eyes and Martín laughs at her.

“How did you do that?” she demands bewildered. “I had it in my hand!”

Martín laughs at her.

“Impressing, I know,” he smirks amused. “Maybe I should talk to your father about giving me an act on his show.”

“You should.”

Martín’s smug smirk drops.

“I what?”

“You should,” Luciana insists. “You should go talk with dad and Mr. Fernández!”

Martín stares at her like she has grown a second head.

“Luciana, I can’t make an act of pulling stuff out of people’s ears.”

She rolls her eyes impatiently at him.

“I don’t mean that,” she says. “I mean you have potential. With hard work and training you can put together an act out of a skill like that.”

Now it is Martín‘s turn to roll his eyes.

“And who’s gonna want to train me?”

Luciana crosses her arms over her chest. She narrows her eyes and sulks at him.

“Lovino used to be a magician,” she says.

Martín’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

“He was?”

“The Great Vargas Brothers. Never heard of them?” when Martín doesn’t answer, she lets out a sight. “He is retired, but he can teach you.”

“Doubtful,” Martín replies. “Mr. Vargas hates me.”

“He hates everybody,” Luciana says. “Just ask him.”

Martín is not convinced, so Luciana does what she does best. She leans forward, and kisses him. It is slow and sweet, and it has Martín melting below her. She takes his hand, slides them inside her nightgown and up her body.

“Ask him,” she says when she pulls away. “Please.”

“Fine,” Martín relents. He can’t help to sound a bit like a sulking child, just like he always does when he falls to Luciana’s charms. “I will.”

Luciana smiles triumphant and leans back down for another kiss.

Martín knows Mr. Vargas will not be as easily seduced as he has. Not that he intends to pulls Luciana’s tactics, as effective as they are.

“I have no interest in training an untalented brat,” Mr. Vargas dismisses him without even looking in his direction when he lays down his offer.

“You don’t even know if I have talent or not,” Martín points out defensively.

“Then let me rephrase that,” Mr. Vargas replies. “I have no interest in training a stupid brat.”

Martín narrows his eyes at him. He is not going to win this battle ramming straight in.

So instead he shrugs.

“I understand,” he says. “It’s ok. I told Luciana there was no point in asking you. It is only understandable that you would have lost your touch after all these years in retirement. There is no shame on it.”

Mr. Vargas looks up, and Martín finds himself under the intense harsh attention of hostile eyes. For a moment, he wonders if he might have miscalculated.

“We start tomorrow first thing in the morning,” Mr. Vargas snaps at him. “If you’re late, I will be throwing you out of this train myself.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Martín salutes way too pleased and giddy to mind Mr. Vargas warning look.

True to his promise, Martín is up early. next morning It is Mr. Vargas who is late. By four hours.

“You said first thing in the morning,” Martín accusses.

“Oh, you better get used to this. I’m never not fashionably late,” Mr. Vargas replies nonchalantly. He takes his coat off, and folds the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. “Now, we start with the basics.”

Mr. Vargas is strict and perfectionist. He watches Martín perform the tricks with a deep frown and clinicals eyes. 

“No, no like that, you useless bastard. That is not how I showed you,” he snaps every time Martín makes a mistake.

Martín can’t help to think he is not a particularly good teacher. He explains things once, has little patience and loses his temper easily. And yet, Martín learns a lot of him.

He even starts to feel fond of him, and has the suspicion Mr. Vargas is starting to be fond of him too. He doesn’t go soft on Martín - because Mr. Vargas doesn’t do soft - but he starts showing patience. He points out Martín’s mistakes without cursing or calling him names, and whenever Martín nails a trick he huffs a curt “Not bad”. That is high praise coming from Mr. Vargas.

Luciana was right about this after all. Magic is all about drawing the audience's attention towards the wrong target. Martín has nimble hands and a silver tongue; he is a master of deceptions and distractions. Martín was born for this. He relishes on the way all lights are on him, in the way his voice commands the audience’s attention, in how he can draw gasps and surprised cries from the crowd.

It takes three months of daily training for Mr. Vargas to deem Martín’s ability acceptable. It takes them another two more to get a full act together to present to Fernández and Fernandes.

“Good luck in there,” Luciana kisses his lips. “I know you’re gonna blow their minds.”

Martín gives Mr. Fernández, Mr. Fernandes and Mr. Vargas a private show that hopefully they won’t forget. He gives it his all, for it is all or nothing for me. Tonight the ringmasters will decide if he can join the show or stay behind the curtains.

“How did it go?” Luciana asks when Martín comes back to her quarters.

Martín cups her face and smiles down at her.

“You are lookin at Fernández and Fernandes newest finest act,” he announces proudly.

Luciana laughs at him, presses her face against his and kisses his lips. She drags him to bed, peals all of his clothes off, and kisses every inch of his body.

“For the record, between you and me,” Luciana mutters against his lips. “I’m Fernández and Fernandes finest act.”

Martín lets out a huff, but doesn’t have it in him to argue. He feels too happy and content to pick a fight, even a silly one like this one. He will let her have it her way tonight.

“You know,” he says, absently as Luciana plants butterfly kisses on his neck. “All great magicians have assistants...”

“Do they?” Luciana asks as a wide grin spreads across her lips.

“Yeah,” Martín replies. “Maybe I should get one too. It’d have to be a pretty girl. She’ll need to match my looks after all. She should also be charming, a crowd pleaser. Know the business as well...”

“Sounds like a whole package,” Luciana points out mirthfully.

“It is,” Martín agrees. “If only there was someone like that...”

“If only,” Luciana agrees.

“Maybe I could ask María…” Martín hums mockingly.

Luciana bites and pulls at the lobe of his ear in retaliation. She leans back, and pouts down at him.

“Ask me already,” she chides.

Martín laughs. He cups her face, and runs his thumb over her cheek lovingly.

“Luciana,” he starts solemnly. “Would you make me the happiest man in the world and join my act?”

She bites her lips, holds back her laughter.

“Are you going to kneel too?” she asks.

“I would, if you’d ask me,” he replies.

Luciana laughs, and kisses his lips.

“I’d love that,” she says. “As long as you take my two girls too.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Martín nods solemnly.

As Luciana leans down and presses their lips together, Martín thinks he really truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I feel the need to make a little disclaimer about animal cruelty. I cannot stress how much animals don't belong in cages and should not be forced to perform. This is a piece of fiction, a made up world where animals are ok with being part of a circus and live happy healthy lives and are treated with love and respect. Reality is not like that. The world will be a bit of a better place when we just let animals be wild and free.
> 
> ☑ Brarg Week - Day 3: Circus | ~~Carnaval~~


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